


Nightmares

by thedamnedthing



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Scars, Trauma, Vampires, janus is a vamp, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 01:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedamnedthing/pseuds/thedamnedthing
Summary: Janus Vairel can't stop thinking of Irkngthand. He tries to find the one other person who understands what he's going through.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this fic over 2 years ago, and only remembered about it in the last couple of days. Thought I might as well finish it.

Darkness began to creep into his vision. A crushing weight pressed down on his chest. Two shadowy figures above blocked the only light in the cavern. Janus, with the last of his breath, screamed as loud as he could. He choked and sputtered and inhaled the cold, murky, water around him; thrashing and clutching his chest until--

Janus bolted upright in bed with a choked shriek, and in a puddle of cold sweat.  
“A dream,” he said aloud, breathlessly. “Just a dream.”  
He heard a sword unsheath from downstairs, and thumping up the stairs.  
“My lord? Are you alright?” Iona called. She was still in her underclothes and nightgown.  
“I… Yes. Thank you for your concern.” He scratched his beard. “I’m going for a walk.”

\---

It’s been a month since Irkngthand, and Janus couldn’t shake it from his mind no matter how hard he tried. Every night, regular as clockwork, he’d have the same dream. The ceiling collapsing in Irkngthand and half-drowning in stagnant water.  
Janus shivered in the cold night air, somehow trying to shake himself from the memory. He pulled his hood over his head; avoiding a glare from a passing guard.  
_I need to get drunk_ , he decided. Janus bypassed The Bee and Barb, too many unfamiliar people. And Marcurio was bound to hit him with the inevitable “Look what the horker dragged in!” line and demand 500 extra septims if Janus wanted to keep him as a bodyguard.  
The Ragged Flagon was his destination. Cheap mead, good laughs, and some work if he needed it. And the one person who shared the harrowing experience at Irkngthand. Janus sighed in frustration. No, he wasn’t going only to see Brynjolf, he convinced himself. The stubborn rogue seemed to be ignoring him anyway.  
Janus pushed open the door to The Ratway and made his way to the Flagon. Vekel, Delvin, Vex, and Tonilia were all still here. As well as the creepy ‘face sculptor’ woman who never talked to anyone.  
Janus lowered his hood and walked to the bar. He ordered a bottle of ale, (“Just because you’re the boss now doesn’t mean you get free drinks, you know.”) sat at an empty table, and began drinking. Janus finished the entire bottle, before thinking it was unusual he wasn’t feeling the usual buzz. Oh. _After over 200 years of being undead I still forget the simplest shit. I can’t get drunk_ , he thought, and gritted his teeth. He stood up to leave, and quite literally bumped into Brynjolf. 

“Don’t go just yet, lad,” He smiled, laying a hand on Janus’s shoulder. “I need to talk to you.” He looked around the room then leaned in closer. “Perhaps in private?”

Janus nodded and swallowed. Brynjolf led the elf into the cistern and up the secret entrance into Riften’s cemetery. The stone grated and groaned as the early morning sun shone on the two thieves stepping out of the alcove. Janus pulled his hood tighter over his head, to no avail (Stupid bloody ears!) and hissed. 

“Can’t get drunk but I have to suffer with a fucking hangover 12 hours a day”, he muttered inwardly.

“What’s that?” Brynjolf turned, blocking the sunlight from Janus’ good eye.

“Thanks. Er, nothing. What did you want to talk about?” He scratched his beard again.

Brynjolf took a laboured breath, clouding in the cold air, before stepping closer to Janus. 

“I can’t forget about that night, lad,” He whispered. He ran his hands up and down his arms. “Irkngthand.”

Janus winced at the memory. 

“Yeah. Neither can I,” Janus looked down at his feet and sniffed. “Can’t sleep. I keep dreaming.” 

Janus forced out a joyless laugh, avoiding Brynjolf’s gaze. He came here to drink and forget, not have a friendly chat about a traumatic event. That’s what therapy is for.  
He looked around then met Brynjolf’s eyes.

“Do you want to come back to Honeyside? I can tell you’re cold, and we won’t be interrupted there.” Janus motioned in the direction of his house. Brynjolf shot him an amused look.

“You haven’t even bought me dinner yet, lad.” 

Janus rolled his eye and turned to walk away. If he could blush, he’d be crimson.

“Come on, you big flirt.”

Brynjolf’s soft footsteps followed close beside him. His gaze burned into Janus’ neck. Their hands, though just for a split second, brushed against each other. 

Janus approached the door of his home, key in hand.

“Hurry up, lad, I’m freezing,” Brynjolf whined, shivering.

Janus laughed and unlocked the door.

“Humans.”

Once inside, Janus stoked the fire. The bright orange flames licking the stony mantle flashed against his one yellow eye. He turned from the fire to sit at the table opposite Brynjolf, who was taking his gloves off and rubbing his hands together. Janus pulled down his hood and carefully removed his eyepatch. He swallowed, hard.  
Brynjolf involuntarily flinched at the 4 long claw marks running over Janus’ eye. Starting at his mid forehead and ending at his beard was a pink scar, pale in contrast to the elf’s skin, mottled and mangled. His eye socket held a milky white false eye that served no purpose other than hiding the black void that waits should the eye be removed.

“Sorry. I only ever take the eyepatch off when I’m at home.” Janus nervously covered the eye with his hand, rubbing the skin of his forehead. Brynjolf suddenly reached over the table and took Janus’ hand in his own and moved it away from his face. Again, another of those situations where Janus was glad he couldn’t blush. Brynjolf didn’t move his hand.

“You don’t have to be sorry, lad. You shouldn’t have to cover it all the time.” 

A minute or two passed in this moment, their two hands clasped together, before the fire popped and crackled loudly, startling the thieves. Janus coughed and retrieved his hand, pouring out two mugs of mead.

“So, you wanted to talk about Irkngthand?” Janus pushed a mug towards Brynjolf, crossing his leg over the other. He nodded a silent thank you.

“It’s not that I want to talk about it, but I don’t want to go crazy talking to myself. You and Karliah, you’re the only ones that understand.”

“Then why didn’t you go talk to her?” Janus smirked.

“You know as well as I do she likes to keep herself hidden. Besides…” Brynjolf took a sip of his mead.

“Besides?”

“I trust you.”

Janus smiled into his mug. Looking into the swirling patterns of his mead, he thought back to a month ago. Mercer had caved in the door behind the three and forced Janus to fight him, and cast some sort of fury spell on Brynjolf. When Janus eventually shouted Mercer off the shoulder of the falmer statue, the room started filling with murky water. There was no observable way out, and Janus was in no way a strong swimmer. The water reached the ceiling and darkness filled his vision. His desperate clawing marked the rocks above him before he lost consciousness.  
Janus grimaced, and took another swig of his mead.

“I woke up and you were kissing me.” He looked into the fire.

“I was trying to revive you.” Brynjolf muttered, his cheeks flushed.

Janus chuckled.

“What, and it meant nothing to you?” He turned back to meet Brynjolf’s eyes. 

“Only if it meant something to you.”

Janus scratched his beard again.

“Well, considering I wasn’t conscious the first time, I think we need a re-do.” He downed the rest of his drink, stood up, and walked around the table. He plopped himself into Brynjolf’s lap.

“Whoa, what-” 

Janus gripped the back of the nord’s neck and captured his lips in a kiss. Brynjolf’s hands gripped Janus’ thighs. 

“Lad, I..”

“Gods, you need to stop calling me that,” Janus pulled away. “I’m at least 250 years older than you.”

“You’re how old?!” 

Janus put a finger to his chin. 

“Somewhere around then, yes. I stopped counting at around 90, when I still looked as old as I did at 30.”

“Talk about cradle-robbing.” Brynjolf leaned in for another kiss.

“Quiet, young man.” Janus tilted his chin up to meet his lips. 

Brynjolf lifted him up by the thighs and carried him to the bed, where he dropped Janus on his back with a thump. He wrestled with the buckles on Janus’ armour.

“Oh, let me do it, fool,” He swiftly removed the chest piece and threw it on the floor. “You’re a thief, I thought you were supposed to be nimble fingered!” 

“I’ll show you how nimble fingered I am.” Brynjolf murmured into Janus’ neck, kissing and licking up to his jawline. The elf moaned and bucked his hips up. He threaded his fingers through Brynjolf’s hair, pulling him up to his mouth desperately.

“Ahem.”

The two jumped apart with a shriek, Janus instinctively covering his chest. Iona was standing at the top of the stairs, cheeks burning, thankfully, with her armour on.

“How long have you been there?!” 

“I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude, serah, I apologise, I just-” She stuttered, looking everywhere but at Janus. Brynjolf shook with silent laughter, eyes creasing.

“No, it’s fine. You should have said something earlier.” Janus said through gritted teeth. 

“Sirs.” Iona bowed, and hastily left through the front door.

Brynjolf was still laughing. Janus poked him with his foot.

“Something funny?”

Brynjolf roared with laughter.

“Did you see the look on her face? Poor girl won’t be able to get that image out of her mind for months!” He laid back on the bed, his hand muffling his choked laughter.

Janus laid down next to him with a smile. 

“So, are we going to finish where we left off, or are you going to continue your impression of a hyena?” 

“Actually, it’s getting a little late. I should get back to my work,” Brynjolf brushed a lock of hair out of Janus’ crestfallen face. “Sorry, lad. I’ve important business to tend to. Maybe another time.” 

He pulled his hood over his head, downed the rest of his mead, and approached the door.

“You’re just going to leave me here unseen to?” Janus motioned to his strained trousers. Brynjolf opened the door.

“Oh, I’m sure you can take care of that yourself.” He winked, and closed the door behind him.

Janus huffed and crossed his arms like a spoilt child. Oh well. _I suppose I should do as he said..._ , Janus thought, and undid his belt.


End file.
